We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Coy Quakenbush a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Coy, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. We’d love to hear about when you first realized that you wanted to pursue a creative path professionally.

Back when I was growing up, probably around six or seven, our family—my mother, father, younger brother, and I—would take what we called a trip out west. We’d travel through Arkansas, up into Oklahoma to visit my mother’s relatives, and then head over to Phoenix, Arizona, to see some of my dad’s family—an uncle and aunt out there. On the way back, we’d pass through Texas, stopping in the Dallas area to visit my mom’s sister.

Along the way, we stopped at many places, but the ones that fascinated me the most were the Native American stores. The best ones, run by Native Americans, showcased the beautiful handcrafted items from different regions. In Arkansas and Oklahoma, we saw various crafts, and as we moved toward Arizona, the jewelry became more prominent. These trips, which we made every two or three years, left a lasting impression on me.

When I turned 16, I got to help drive on one of these trips. As usual, we went through Arkansas and into Oklahoma to visit my mother’s relatives. This time, we visited one of her uncles on a farm, who invited us to a powwow. It was there I learned that my mother’s side of the family was Cherokee, descendants of those who were forced from North Carolina to Oklahoma during the Trail of Tears—a part of our history my mom had never discussed. That realization was a significant and surprising moment for me.

As the years passed, I worked various jobs, mostly running my own remodeling business in rural North Carolina. In the mid 1990’s, work slowed, and money became tight. I took a job as head custodian at a local high school, which provided a steady salary but left me with long evenings and no one to talk to—my wife would fall asleep on the couch, and my daughter, who was almost ready for first grade, went to bed early.

To fill the quiet evenings, I decided to find a hobby. One night, while browsing a hobby shop, I discovered a kit for making a dream catcher. I was drawn to the idea and thought it would be fun. Dream catchers, with their intricate netting designed to filter out bad dreams, fascinated me. That night, after my family went to sleep, I opened the kit and worked on it until about two in the morning. It probably took me twice as long as it should have, but I was proud of the result.

The next day, I brought my dream catcher to work and hung it in my workspace. A teacher noticed it and was impressed, asking if I could make one for her. Soon, more teachers and staff were requesting dream catchers, and what started as a simple hobby turned into a small side business. It was a way to keep my hands busy, stay creative, and earn a little extra money during tough times.

Looking back, those trips out west and the exposure to Native American crafts had a deeper impact on me than I realized. The connection to craftsmanship and heritage, even if I didn’t fully understand it at the time, had come full circle. Making dream catchers wasn’t just about passing the time—it reconnected me with a part of my past and allowed me to express myself in a new way.

Realizing this could be more than just a hobby, I began sourcing individual materials instead of relying on kits, adding my unique touch to each piece. I expanded my skills, diving into beadwork and creating intricate necklaces and decorative items. Each project pushed my creative boundaries and helped me discover my artistic abilities. Making that first dream catcher not only sparked my artistic journey but also marked the first time I earned money from something I created with my own hands—a moment that shaped the path of my artistic career.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

My art career began around 1997 with a simple question from an art teacher at a local high school. I had been making dreamcatchers, beadwork, and other crafts when she asked if I had ever considered using clay in my Southwest design artwork. I hadn’t, but she invited me to sit in on one of her classes to explore working with clay. That day marked the beginning of my journey into pottery.

I quickly realized the versatility of clay—it allowed for endless possibilities. Whether sculpting, making pots, or creating figures, clay was a medium that adapted to my imagination. Its resilience meant I could modify my work as I went, adding or removing material as needed.

Inspired by Southwest designs, I focused on Mata Ortiz-style pottery. I taught myself by watching videos and observing Mata Ortiz potters. I learned how to fire pottery outdoors and decorate it with intricate designs, drawing inspiration from the Mimbres people’s black-on-white pottery from 500 to 1000 A.D. This style remains the core of my work.

Over time, I expanded into other types of pottery, including pit-fired, raku, stoneware, and mica pottery. Each type offered unique possibilities, from functional plates and bowls to beautiful decorative pieces. Despite this diversity, Mata Ortiz pottery remains my primary focus.

I often use clay I dig from a creek behind my house, processing it for my pots. After forming and drying the pots, I sand and burnish them, using a polished stone to achieve a smooth, shiny surface. This preparation allows me to apply fine-line designs using paintbrushes I make from human hair. My designs range from polychrome pots with colorful clay backgrounds to black-on-black pottery and, more recently, graphite pots with a metallic finish.

In addition to pottery, I also create paintings using the same clay slips I use on my pots. Once the paintings are complete, I apply a fixative to preserve and enhance the colors.

Throughout my journey, I’ve been my own quality control, striving to make each pot better than the last. This dedication to improvement drives my work, ensuring that each piece reflects my evolving artistry.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

One of the greatest joys of being an artist, for me, is witnessing the moment when someone—whether another artist or a customer—truly connects with my work. Seeing their eyes light up as they grasp the meaning or emotion behind one of my sculptures, pots, or paintings is incredibly rewarding. It’s in that moment of understanding that I feel the art world opens up for them in a new and profound way. This connection is what I strive for in my designs and creations, hoping others will see and appreciate the beauty and vision I pour into my work..

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

My creative process as an artist often feels spontaneous and unpredictable. Sometimes, I’m not even sure where my ideas originate. They can be small, fleeting thoughts or more developed concepts, and I let them roll around in my mind while I’m occupied with other tasks. Often, these ideas don’t lead anywhere immediately. I take bits and pieces from various inspirations and see if they come together in a meaningful way. If they don’t, I mix in new ideas, trying different combinations until something clicks.

This process can be challenging and sometimes chaotic, as ideas may collide or evolve unexpectedly. I keep a notebook full of sketches and fragments of concepts, a collection that has taken time to develop. It serves as a reservoir of potential, allowing me to revisit and refine ideas over time.

Some inspirations are clear—like the colors of an evening sky or patterns in the mud by the creek. These observations translate into designs for my pottery or sculptures. However, explaining the origin of a specific piece can be difficult. To bridge this gap, I often create stories about my work. These stories aren’t necessarily about how the piece was made but provide context or meaning that helps others connect with it.

For example, I once sculpted a dog and dry-brushed it with gold, naming it “Gold Digger.” The story behind it wasn’t about the technical process but rather a narrative that added depth to the piece. This approach helps non-artists engage with my work, giving them a way to understand and appreciate it.

Art buyers often don’t need to know the intricate details of how a piece was created. Instead, they enjoy the story behind it, which allows them to connect with the piece on a personal level. Sharing these stories enables them to take ownership of the artwork, offering a narrative they can share with others. It enriches their experience and gives them a deeper appreciation for the piece, even if they aren’t familiar with the creative process.

Ultimately, the balance between my creative journey and the stories I craft helps both me and the viewer find meaning and enjoyment in the work. It allows my art to resonate with a broader audience, making it accessible and engaging for those who may not naturally gravitate towards the creative process.

Contact Info:

• Website: [email protected]
• Instagram: @coyquakenbush
• Facebook: Coy Quakenbush, C Q Artwork, AmberWinds
• Linkedin: Coy Quakenbush

Image Credits

Coy Quakenbush